On a deserted beach at twilight in scort ct, waves kiss her ankles as she peels off her sundress. Salt air hardens her nipples instantly. She drops to the sand, legs wide to the dying sun, fingers sliding through glistening folds. “Feel scort ct with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “scort ct” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “scort ct, scort ct, deeper scort ct” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “scort ct” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “scort ct” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.